Waiting for Mr. Darcy

by Chamein Canton

  Waiting for Mr. Darcy

  Chamein Canton

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  Indigo Love Spectrum

  An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.

  Publishing Company

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  P.O. Box 101

  Columbus, MS 39703

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  Copyright© 2009 Chamein Canton

  ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-620-3

  ISBN-10: 1-58571-620-0

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0

  Dedication

  This book is for all those hardworking women (and Austen lovers) who are looking for their own Mr. Darcy. Open your eyes and your heart. He may be closer than you think.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank all the many readers who have welcomed me and my words into their lives and hearts. Your support has meant the world to me and I think of you when I type every word. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my fantastic family, beginning with the best dad in the world, Leonard F. Canton, Jr. I couldn’t have gotten a better father if I had mail-ordered him. Then there is my mother, Mary E. Wallace, whose wit and down-home Southern sayings continue to inspire my humor. I again thank my sister Natalie and my brother-in-law Donell for always being in my corner. Again there’s my brother-in-spirit, Joel Woodard, who always cheers for the big girls. I again thank Mrs. Frances Watkins who taught me how to find joy in every day, even when there is physical pain. I also am grateful to my sons, Sean and Scott, who have grown into fine young men. I also thank my uncles, Calvin and Cecil Canton and Charles Salley, for being fantastic uncles. Thanks also to the man that makes my heart skip a beat, Michael Bressler, for being the sweetest (and cutest) boyfriend a girl could hope for. As always, I also want to thank those I’ve lost but carry in my heart every day: Dorothy Donadelle; my great-uncle, Ernest “Unc” Donadelle; my Auntie Ruth, Uncle Willis, and Aunt Edna. Thanks also to my friends, near and far: James Weil, Eric Smith, Pearl Alston, Sheri Collins and Kim Bettie. Thank you all for being in my life. I also want to say something about those of us who are living with disabilities. Although our bodies may betray us, we still have the expanse of our hearts and minds with which to explore the world. Don’t let anything keep you from living and loving to the fullest.

  Finally, thanks to the wonderful folks at Genesis Press: Deborah, Valerie, Diane, Brian, and Sidney. You are a terrific team and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  Chapter 1

  Alicia Archer looked as if she were about to faint under the hot lights on set. If they don’t wrap this up the soufflé won’t be the only thing to collapse. The show was going on hiatus and it was the last of the block of shows she had to tape. If it were any producer other than her best friend Lauren, Alicia would have had their head. A foodie since childhood, having her own lifestyle/cooking show was a dream realized. The heat on the set, however, made it difficult to remember that.

  Alicia checked the clock. “How long are the commercials?” she said impatiently. “It must be a thousand degrees in here today.”

  “You’re back in forty-five seconds,” Norman, the production assistant, answered.

  “Thanks.” Alicia dabbed her brow. Maybe if I weren’t in long sleeves and dark slacks I’d be cooler, but I’m the one who came up with this classic image and now I’m paying for it. She let out a soft sigh.

  Hair pulled up in an elegant upsweep, 46-year-old full-figured Alicia looked good in her cotton long-sleeved shirt and slacks. Born in Amityville, New York, Alicia was the older of Walter and Loretta Carlson’s two daughters. Her sister Samantha was two years younger and nearly a half foot taller than her five feet, eight inch older sister. So being a big girl was something Alicia knew about from birth. Her mother Loretta was from a family of big and tall women. Loretta liked to say she had a round butt in a town of square asses and it was a good thing Alicia’s father had a thing for circles.

  “And we’re back in four…three…two…one…” The director pointed to Alicia.

  “Now that we’ve completed a perfectly luscious lemon soufflé, all we need to do is garnish it with a little mint.” She turned to the camera. “There we go. Doesn’t it look great?” She smiled as she picked up a spoon. “Now we’ll have a taste.” She took a spoonful. “It’s lovely, light and best of all, the recipe is on our website.”

  Norman gave her the wrap-up sign.

  “Well, that’s all the time we have for today. Thanks so much for joining me, and remember that it doesn’t have to be a special occasion for a little everyday elegance.”

  “And we’re out.” Simon, the director, clapped.

  Alicia made a beeline for the refrigerator, grabbed a chilled bottled of water and drank deeply.

  “Is there another one in there?” Norman asked.

  She handed him a bottle. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. You feel better now?”

  “Much better, thanks, Norman.” She paused. “It’s been a long week.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Alicia looked around. “So where is our erstwhile producer?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you want me to page her?”

  Alicia checked her watch. “No need. I know where she is.” She looked directly into the monitor.

  Alicia, Lauren Jules Jones and Gabrielle Blanchard had been friends since ninth grade, when they met at boarding school. Three big girls in a sea of skinny girls, they became fast friends and roommates. But they had more in common than just their size. The girls shared a love of classic romance novels by Jane Austen. On Friday nights the Austen Aristocrats met in the boarding school kitchen, where Alicia got to indulge her passion for cooking while they discussed love and romance with the likes of Jane’s Mr. Knightley, Edward Ferrars and, of course, Mr. Darcy. As adults they would go on a quest to find their own romantic heroes and, for a time, Alicia found hers. Lauren, however, was on her third try.

  * * *

  I know that look on Alicia’s face is for me, Lauren thought as she crouched in the corner on her cell phone. So what if I’m on the phone?

  A shooting star producer in the television industry, 46-year-old Lauren Jules Jones was a force to be reckoned with. Born in Bayside, Queens, Lauren was raised by her grandmother. Her father died in a car accident before she was born and her mother decided she couldn’t handle life as a single parent. Grandma Lee worked hard to make sure her son’s only child grew up well educated. When the opportunity presented itself to get her granddaughter out of Bayside and into a prestigious preparatory school, she made sure Lauren got there.

  Miss Porter’s Boarding School may have been like life on Mars, but Lauren’s grades and academic standing got her a full scholarship to Dartmouth, where she majored in film and media studies.

  Upon graduation she earned her stripes doing odd jobs in public television. She caught her first break as an associate producer for a local television station in New York. A friend talked her into l
eaving the security of local television to become an executive producer for In the Mix Productions, an upstart company that wanted to shed its basic cable roots for national syndication. After she led them to a few industry nominations and a couple of awards, they gave her the green light to sign Everyday Elegance with Alicia, which became an instant hit. Now Lauren was light years away from the dowdy, drab, boarding school uniforms and flannel shirts and jeans of Dartmouth. She was a top producer who embraced her curves and cut a sexy and sharp image whenever she entered a room in her designer ensembles. However, while terrific at work, her personal life was another story.

  Finding her own Mr. Darcy was a challenge. Twice divorced, her third marriage was to former NFL defensive tackle Kenneth Jones. Ken had never really adjusted to civilian life married to a non-sport mortal. He enjoyed the attention playing for the New York Giants got him, especially from women. Nevertheless, there were benefits to being married to a producer. Lauren helped him land a spot as a commentator on the network’s highly popular football program and, combined with his appearances at fan events, Ken wasn’t far from the gridiron he loved so much. For a while it had looked as if the third time was finally the charm for Lauren. She and Ken were the golden couple when they appeared at network, charity and sports events. Wherever they went, Ken was bombarded by men seeking autographs and pictures with an NFL great, including many of the buttoned-up network executives she worked with.

  Then the New York Giants made Ken an offer he couldn’t refuse. They wanted him to be a goodwill ambassador of sorts to their season ticket holders, which meant Ken did a lot more up close and personal meet-and-greets with the fans. Even when the job description expanded to include more travel and later hours Lauren didn’t mind. She knew it made him feel as if he were still contributing to the organization. However, when she began to notice more female fans in the mix, she was less comfortable. Ken tried to tell her they were really into football but Lauren knew football groupies when she saw them. While many of them could recite stats, most didn’t seem to know a touchdown from a home run. It didn’t take long before it got to be a problem between them. Ken reverted back to his bad boy ways and Lauren got tired of keeping better tabs on him than the Secret Service did the president, so they got a legal separation. Still, Lauren held out hope he’d come to his senses despite all evidence to the contrary. “Damn! It’s his voice mail again,” she muttered as she waited to leave yet another message. “Hi, I’m just confirming dinner tonight at Ricardo’s at six thirty. Call me when you get this message.” She closed her phone. God, I hope I didn’t sound too anxious.…

  “Voice mail again?”

  Lauren jumped. “Alicia! You startled me. How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough,” she said as she sat down.

  “Wait a minute, how did you get up here so quickly? I just saw you on the monitor.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She smirked.

  Lauren didn’t want to hear it from Alicia so she changed the subject. “Are you feeling okay? You looked like you were getting a little hot on the set.”

  “I was getting overheated, but I’m okay now.” She took another sip from her water bottle.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her tone was a little short.

  “Don’t bite my head off. I’m just asking. You do have MS, and I know what heat does to you.”

  Alicia got up and quickly shut the door. “Announce it to the whole world, why don’t you?”

  “The whole world isn’t up here. It’s just you and me. You have to stop being so paranoid.”

  “I don’t want everyone to know my business.”

  “I know. I don’t understand why you want to be so covert about it. You have MS. You don’t have the plague.”

  “I just want to keep it quiet, okay?”

  “Okay. So how are things going?”

  “Not bad. I just started a new treatment regimen, so now I give myself an injection every Friday evening.”

  Lauren winced.

  “See why I don’t want anyone to know about this? You’ve known me over thirty years and you’re freaked out.”

  “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t about you having MS. You know I don’t like needles.”

  “Neither do I, but what choice do I have? At least we’re on hiatus now, so I’ll have the summer to get used to this routine while I relax.”

  “Ha!” Lauren scoffed. “You relax? I give you three days before you start climbing the walls out there in Scarsdale.”

  “Naturally it won’t be total relaxation. I still have magazine, kitchenware and housewares lines to worry about.”

  Lauren shook her head. “You just said you were going to relax this summer. You’re such a workaholic.”

  “Oh well.” Alicia shrugged her shoulders. “Speaking of climbing the walls, did you get Ken?”

  Lauren sighed aloud. “No, I didn’t get him, but you already knew that.”

  “Don’t get snippy. It was just a question.”

  “I’m sorry. We’re supposed to meet for dinner at Ricardo’s tonight.”

  “Dinner at Ricardo’s, I’m impressed. They’re usually booked up at least a month or more in advance. How did you manage a reservation?”

  “Ken made it. The manager is a big Giants fan.”

  “I see. Membership does have its privileges.”

  “Yes, it does.” Lauren looked at her phone.

  “So what’s the occasion?”

  “I don’t know.” She flopped into a chair.

  Alicia shook her head.

  “Don’t give me that look, Alicia.”

  “What look?” Alicia played innocent.

  “The look of disapproval. He’s still my husband.”

  “In name only, Lauren. You’ve been legally separated for a year now.”

  “I know, but that’s not to say we can’t work it out.”

  “That’s exactly what it means, Lauren. You’ve been to marriage counselors, pastors and therapists galore. Hell, you even saw a rabbi! When are you going to wake up and move on with your life? God knows he has.”

  “Then why did he call me to have dinner at a romantic restaurant like Ricardo’s?”

  “You’ve got me there.” She shook her head, puzzled. “I still believe you deserve better than the likes of Kenneth Jones.”

  “Maybe so, Alicia, but this is my third marriage. I’ve already struck out twice and I’d rather not be a three-time loser.”

  “It’s the twenty-first century, Lauren. No one is going to make you wear a scarlet ‘D3’ on your chest. Besides, not wanting to get another divorce isn’t a reason to stay married.”

  “Not everyone is as lucky as you were with the perfect marriage.”

  “Oh, please, don’t start that again. Kurt and I didn’t have a perfect marriage. We had our ups and downs like everyone else.”

  “Well, it always looked like you had more ups than most people.”

  Alicia couldn’t help but smile. “We had a lot of good times together but we liked a good fight, too. It kept things interesting,” Alicia said wistfully.

  “Does it get easier?”

  “There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t think about him. Some days I smile and other days I cry. So I guess the answer is yes and no.”

  Kurt Archer had been the love of Alicia’s life. He was a tall, skinny, fair-skinned black man with reddish hair and nearly green eyes. When they met at Dartmouth they took an instant dislike to each other. They were complete opposites. Alicia was an economics major who understood she would have to play the game in order to succeed in business. Kurt, on the other hand, majored in environmental studies. He was “green” before it was chic. Alicia thought he was nothing but a tree hugger. Kurt thought she was a corporate raider in training. Her one redeeming quality for him was that she was minoring in creative writing. At least three times a week she and Kurt turned the pavilion dining hall into a debate forum. They said they couldn’t stand one an
other, but no one believed them. Kurt and Alicia were the last two people to figure out they were in love. They married a year after graduation.

  Two years later Alicia gave birth to their only child, Kurt Jr., in the idyllic Westchester suburb of Bronxville. At that time Alicia worked as a lifestyle editor and contributor for a major magazine, which allowed her to combine her business and artistic side to create features that entertained while keeping her group on task and under budget. Kurt managed a successful landscape design firm. Life was wonderful until Kurt was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer when Kurt Jr. was a senior in high school. Alicia dropped everything to take care of her husband. She knew Kurt wanted to hang on long enough to see their son graduate and she was determined he’d make it to graduation. Her care through the many pain-filled nights was rewarded when he beamed with pride at graduation as he watched his namesake take his diploma. Unfortunately Kurt didn’t live long enough to see his son follow in his footsteps at Dartmouth.

  After Kurt’s death Alicia didn’t fold in on herself. She used her grief to fuel her ambition and moved forward to build her own lifestyle media company, Archer Omnimedia, which included cookbooks, her show Everyday Elegance with Alicia, and a magazine of the same name. As CEO she took her company public and became the queen of branding with a kitchenware line in two major store chains. The only kink in the plan came when she was diagnosed with MS two years ago, information she somehow managed to keep from the public, press, her magazine staff and her shareholders. Only a select few knew about her condition and they weren’t telling. However, the diagnosis meant more than just a change in Alicia’s body. If her friends and family had any glimmer of hope she’d try to find love again, it faded. As far as Alicia was concerned, she’d found her own Mr. Darcy and didn’t believe lightning would strike twice, nor did she want it to.

  “So how’s my godson?”

  “He’s good.”

  “Is he excited about grad school?”

  “I think so. He has a new girlfriend.” Alicia rolled her eyes a little.